


Midday

by Toast_Senpai



Series: 100 Kinks [13]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 10:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12056787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toast_Senpai/pseuds/Toast_Senpai
Summary: It’s too hot for this but they’re doing it anyway.





	Midday

**Author's Note:**

> A little sendoff to summer, who won’t be missed. (I’m a cold weather lover)  
> Kink Challenge Prompt: Spontaneous sex

Alex has a penchant for roughhousing. Ross knows this, and yet he didn’t think Alex would take it quite this seriously. Currently Ross is pinned by the biceps to the hardwood floor. The rotating fan in the corner pushes the warm air around them, and for a moment Ross feels the coolness of the floor soak into his back through his thin t-shirt, skin absorbing any cold it can find.

Of course Alex chooses the hottest day of summer to wrestle him. Ross hadn’t even put up much of an initial fight as Alex kicked the backs of his knees. He landed on his ass, palms smacking the floor. When he went to ask why, that’s when Alex lunged towards him, a sweaty mass of energy that easily overpowered him.

Trott sits on the sofa, sparing them only a fleeting glace, saying nothing. Ross knows it would be useless to ask for help. Trott generally wants no part of Alex’s strange impromptu wrestling matches. And while Trott can effortlessly evade Alex’s attacks, Ross cannot. He isn’t trained in any karate or defensive combat. He is forced to take the challenge head on.

Ross takes a breath of the warm air surrounding them and grabs onto Alex’s sides. With as much strength as he can gather, he forces Alex to his right. It’s not enough to break free, but it leaves a hole in which he can force himself up, abdominals straining against the extra bulk.

Alex presses a knee into his thigh and Ross grits his teeth. Alex always plays dirty, not caring if they both walk away with bruises. Alex is heavy but that weight is mainly centered above his waist. Ross struggles to pry Alex’s damp hands from his arms.

There’s a fixed grin on Alex’s face. He’s breathing through his mouth, quick pants that are soundless over the fan and the drone of the television Trott continues to watch. Ross wants to surrender, but he doesn’t want to see the look of triumph Alex would give. So he twists, hears the thud of Alex’s knee hitting the ground as his thigh comes free. Ross is able to force Alex to lean on an elbow to support himself.

It’s an opening that only lasts a second. Alex is already lifting himself, preparing for his next attack, and Ross has to move fast. He puts his palms onto Alex’s shoulders and pushes hard. It sends Alex backwards. For a moment, Ross is free. He feels relief. And then Alex is coming to him again, a forearm set against Ross’ chest that steals the air from his lungs as he’s pressed into the floor once again.

He knows his legs are stronger than Alex’s. He slots them against Alex’s left calf and turns, all the while bringing his head up until their foreheads smack together. Ross relaxes himself before he surges up. Ross keeps pushing, hands twisting into Alex’s tank top as power finally switches in Ross’ favor.

Alex doesn’t give in calmly. He thrashes, and Ross isn’t expecting that. Alex breaks them apart, then stands. As Ross fights to make his feet move fast enough, Alex slams against him. But it was misjudged, and used far too much strength. Alex ends up on the floor, Ross managing to remain sitting on his knees, an arm his anchor from falling back.

He takes advantage of Alex then and uses his whole body to cover Alex while both hands push a shoulder down until Alex’s chest is to the floor. Ross squeezes his knees against Alex’s hips and puts as much weight as he can on the flailing man.

For a brief minute, Ross is able to get his breath back. He feels sweat slide down his face and drip off his chin. It lands onto Alex’s back, a small darkened circle on the cotton of his green tank top. Ross looks over at Trott, who gives him an unenthusiastic thumbs up.

The position is actually quite comfortable, if not a little too warm. Ross looks out the sliding glass door to their left into the fenced backyard. The sun is yet too high in the sky to be seen, but the section of blue he can see holds no clouds. Alex moves under him, and his basketball shorts stick to his skin and pull.

Ross is lifted up, and he has to fight to keep Alex’s chest to the floor. Alex brings his legs in, and it has to hurt, knees dragging along the floor. It doesn’t accomplish much, just leaves his ass pressed to Ross’ groin, still draped over top of him.

“Damn, you’re heavy,” Alex breathes.

“You weigh more than me,” Ross counters.

“Both of you are abnormally large,” Trott comments.

Alex huffs, and it sounds like a strained laugh. Ross wonders how long he’s going to have to hold Alex down for. His muscles are already aching. And with the way Alex has moved them into this new position, his mind is starting to think of _other_ things. He tries to clear it, focus on the show on the television, the voices that he doesn’t recognize.

But Alex shifts back, and he doesn’t do it just once. Just once would have signaled to Ross that this game was still on. The shift is consistent though, and Ross wants to say _really?_ because now everything has changed. What was oddly innocent enough before just turned into a whole other game, one that makes his skin prickle with a different kind of heat.

Alex’s hum is low, rumbling deep from within his chest. Ross feels it, retaliates with a nip to Alex’s ear which backfires because Alex _likes_ his ears messed with, they’re sensitive, and he rolls his hips, back dipping as he keeps his ass up. How, Ross doesn’t know, but there’s suddenly much more pressure against his cock. That, combined with Alex’s throaty whine, fuels the rush of arousal that skips along his nerves. Ross swallows, mouth going dry.

He can just leave this, move off, stand up, go sit by Trott on the sofa and end it all here. But Alex has gone pliant under him, and his head has turned to the side. The one blue eye he can see is bright, daring him to stop this. Ross groans. Damn Alex and his games. Maybe this had been his intention from the start. Ross reaches around and dips his hand past Alex’s shorts and boxers. The man is already hard, of _course_ he is. Ross wants to laugh in disbelief.

“Ross,” Alex drawls, turning his head back so that Ross can only see his messy hair. “Don’t tease.”

Ross clicks his tongue. _Him_ , a tease? He thinks he hears Trott snort but doesn’t bother to look up.

It’s too hot to stay glued to Alex’s back, so Ross raises himself. The fan rotates towards him and it cools him for a quick second before it angles away, leaving him warm once again. Alex stays pressed to the floor even when Ross releases his straining cock. There’s almost an annoyed sigh from Alex as he turns his head again, and this time there’s no more challenge in his eyes. Instead it’s a look Ross has seen often, one he knows well. It signals Alex’s want, his overall submission. He’s done putting up a fight. In a way, it’s saying Ross has won –for now.

Ross wants to ask what Alex ultimately wants him to do. Jerk him off? He opens his mouth around the question, and something smacks into his arm. It bounces from there onto the floor, stopping a foot away. Ross looks down and sees that it’s a container of lube. A glance up shows a smirking Trott still perched on the sofa.

Ross picks up the tube. It has only been used a couple other times, usually hidden in the sofa cushions for when they didn’t feel like moving to the bedroom. That had, surprisingly, been Trott’s idea, to keep it here in the living room. Thankfully no guest has ever come across it.

Alex pulls at his tank top until it’s off, leaves it in a heap next to his head. The long curve of his back is flushed pink, collections of scattered freckles like darkened stars across the expanse of rosy skin. Ross traces these clusters with a finger, connecting them to make nonsense constellations. All three of them have their own marks on pale skin, but Alex has the most freckles. Ross bends his head and kisses between Alex’s shoulder blades where the biggest splattering lies.

A particularly strong push back from Alex has Ross lifting his head. He brings Alex’s shorts down along with his boxers, leaves them at Alex’s knees. He catches Alex’s smile before the man is pushing his forehead into the floor and Ross is left with only the view of auburn hair, fluttering as the fan’s breeze passes over.

Ross takes his cock out of his shorts but keeps them up. He shakes the lube bottle, opens it and coats his fingers before he snaps the lid. He lets it clatter to the floor. He sinks a finger into Alex, marvels at how _hot_ he is inside. He adds a second and Alex moans, pushes back, and Ross thinks he hears him say _another_ but his focus is off. He wants to ignore the television but they are right under it, the hurried voices of the actors filling his head, urging him on as he spreads his fingers, loosening Alex as much as he can be bothered to.

His shirt clings to him but he doesn’t care to take an extra second to remove it. He tugs at his cock, pushes it between Alex’s ass cheeks, slides it under his sac and it has Alex squirming, nails scratching the wooden floor.

“ _Now_ I’m teasing,” Ross murmurs.

He pinches the skin of Alex’s hip, then smoothes his sticky fingers over it. He wishes Alex was on his back so he could kiss the man. But this position is nice, stirs the fire that’s crackling low in his stomach. Ross ruts against Alex, groans at the friction because it isn’t enough. His heart is already knocking hard in his chest and he hasn’t _done_ anything yet. He waits for the fan to pass by before he moves his cock back up, aligns it to Alex’s quivering hole then sinks in lazily.

Under him, Alex takes a deep breath, one that lifts his back, moves the star-freckles as if they are changing with the seasons, summer to fall with one inhale, then back again on the exhale. They shimmer too, sweat turned into stardust that dances along Alex’s back in the sunlight. Ross stares, unblinking, watching Alex breathe, and he forgets the heat surrounding him and television noise.

Alex’s groan of his name brings Ross to his senses. He pulls back, then thrusts in. Alex swears. Ross does it again, a little harder, wants Alex’s voice to drown out the television. When all he gets is panting, he strengthens his pace. The rhythmic slap of their skin helps, offers a distraction. When he bends over Alex to go deeper, the occasional moan is forced out.

Ross rests his damp forehead against Alex’s upper back, body sweetly sore. His knees are on fire, but it feels too good to stop and try to change position. Alex takes him so well, squeezes down as he pulls out. When Ross shortens his thrusts to grind against Alex, he receives a high, needy whine that makes him grit his teeth.

It’s too hot for this but they’re doing it anyway. Alex is slipping on the floor with every push Ross gives. His skin itches annoyingly. He just wants to jump into a cold bath and leave the shower run, pretend it is rain as it overflows the tub and floods the whole house like a summer storm. But right now he can’t cool off, all he can feel is the rising temperature of his body and the one below him.

He fists Alex’s cock, thumbs at the leaking head. Alex jumps at the touch, a gasp slipping past his lips that’s soon followed by a groan. Ross knows just how Alex’s likes to be jerked off, and flicks his wrist in time with his thrusts. Alex goes tense under him. Ross smiles into the hot flesh against his lips, can feel the rapid build of orgasm starting.

Alex’s hand covers his own, too hot palm tightening his grip. With a broken moan Alex comes, and Ross drinks in the sound of satisfaction, lets it echo in his head until he finally lets go himself, pulling out and catching what he can in his fee hand. He sits back, putting pressure off of his knees and stares at the milky drops between Alex’s legs resting on the caramel colored floor. Ross thinks of iced coffee and how good it would taste right about now.

There’s a content sigh from Alex as he turns and sits to face Ross. He rubs at his reddened knees and grins. “That was a real workout,” he says.

Ross nods and wipes his wet hand on his shorts and tucks his cock back inside them. He looks Alex over, thinking that the man could have walked straight out of a porno with the way his skin glimmered. Ross let his eyes travel across Alex’s ruddy chest, counted the freckles by twos without thinking.

“Oi, are you guys gonna sit on the floor all day or go bathe? It reeks in here now.”

They both look over at Trott, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the sofa. He appears to be quite comfortable, despite the warmth of the room.

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll go,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. He pulls up his shorts and boxers, then hefts himself up. He extends a hand to Ross, who takes it and stands as well.

He follows Alex out of the living room and into the hallway where he pushes the man against the wall and kisses him. Alex’s lips are soft, tongue a hot brand that drags against his own. Ross hums into Alex’s mouth before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” Alex laughs.

“No reason,” Ross says. “Come on, a cold bath sounds _lovely_ right now.”

Alex agrees, naturally.


End file.
